


He’s Elusive and I’m Awake

by MellytheHun



Series: Kylux Angst November [4]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Study, M/M, Romance, Tragic Romance, Unhealthy Relationships, tumblr event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellytheHun/pseuds/MellytheHun
Summary: Day Five of Angst November: Missing You (When You Were Here)





	

**Author's Note:**

> _“Sometimes you can only feel something by its absence. By the empty spaces it leaves behind.”_ – Gayle Forman

There are times, impassioned, dizzying times, that Ren kisses him and everything else falls away. Times that he forgets who he is, where he needs to be, what he ought to be doing – or _not_ doing. 

It’s as if all their surroundings gradually quiet, pitter away into silence until there is only him and only Ren. He is never absolutely certain that Ren isn’t doing that on purpose – that it’s all some sort of mind trick, but he tends to think it’s just the effect Ren has on him. 

Being under Ren’s laser-focused stare is like being pinned by the reflective eyes of a tuskcat in the dark of some deep jungle. Ren’s body is almost entirely muscle, his hands are broader, coarser, his hair is thicker, wilder and his energy is altogether an untamed, burning whirlwind. He’s raw power, encasing Hux, filling him with blood and air all while draining it away, leaving him boneless and in need.

When Hux has Ren’s attention, when it’s undivided and solely on him, it is an intoxicating high. When Hux was young and fantasized about Emperor’s robes and golds, he would imagine how finally content he would be. He would imagine the unending power at his fingertips, the control and the peace he would find in the certainty of his supremacy. Now, though, he knows he can find that contentment, peace and rule by surrendering himself to Ren.

When he tugs his gloves off with his teeth, Ren’s pupils dilate, dark as black holes and just as capable of twisting Hux up and pulling him in. And when Hux bites his lip and groans, Ren gasps with pleasure for the sound – when Hux sweats in the throes of passion, Ren licks it off his neck, chest, back – whatever he has access to and he makes a sweet, tortured throaty noise at the flavor. When Hux is buried in him, Ren’s pounding heart can be seen by the naked eye, bouncing against his ribcage, his wrists will go limp and his eyes will lid like he’s under a spell.

When _Ren_ is the one restlessly rutting into Hux, his hands shake and roam like he’s unable to decide on just one place to touch Hux. When Hux tightens up around him, Ren moans, almost _growls_ his name like a _curse_ and when they’re twined like that, fit together, delving ever deeper, there is nothing in the galaxy outside each other.

And then when Ren’s attention is not on Hux.

He is a different man – a stranger that keeps Hux at an arm’s length. He can walk right by Hux and Hux can even speak to him, but Ren will pass over like a shadow, not ignoring Hux but sincerely not hearing him or seeing him. 

So engulfed Ren can become in his mind, in his meditation, in the Force that all else ceases to exist – even Hux. 

It always happens without warning – Ren will leave a conference with Snoke, return from a mission, wake from a dream and he’s gone while still being there. He’s an empty shell. He doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, doesn’t speak and doesn’t even meet eyes with Hux. 

Hux will worry over Ren sometimes when he meditates too long, goes too many cycles without eating or sleeping. He’ll bring Ren water and nurse it to him, he’ll cloak Ren’s bare shoulders with his greatcoat and even then, Ren won’t open his eyes – and if his eyes are open, they still never meet Hux’s. He can become catatonic, alone in the universe, go to some void place that Hux has no way of following him to.

And he would. If Hux knew where it is Ren went when he went away while standing before him, Hux would follow. Hux would circle the event horizon of Ren’s eyes and allow himself to be pulled down, drown in the murky waters there and kill whatever monster resides, alleviate whatever ailment festers. Hux is willing to do just about anything for Ren, which is even more troubling than it sounds.

Hux wishes that were the worst of it. The going-away he can still manage – he can take care of Ren, wait it out, wonder when it is he’ll snap out of the trance he’s in and return to the living. Return to Hux. 

No, the worst of it is not when Ren disappears into himself. The worst of it is when Ren lands unsteadily in the middle. 

Ren functions in extremes – everything he feels, he feels intensely and everything he doesn’t feel is void and dead. All he does, he does wholeheartedly or not at all. So, when his attention is on Hux, it’s euphoria. Hux can watch Ren’s operatic adoration play out like he’s on a stage, can sigh and laugh and bite all while Ren worships him with every fiber of his being, thinks of nothing else, does nothing else – no, nothing else matters when Ren is there with Hux.

In comparison, when Ren is Gone, he might be a ghost. Wandering aimlessly, staring, catatonic into the middle distance, slack, immovable and seemingly eternal. Ren is a hot ray of light shining down on Hux, bathing him in gold, kissing his wrists, eyes and hair, glistening over his kiss-swollen lips, turning Hux’s ears and neck and cheeks rosy. The very next cycle, Ren can be as distant and untouchable as a fever dream, lost in his own mind, unaware of the galaxy around him.

The middle is far worse than either end of the spectrum. The middle is where Ren can’t vanish into himself but isn’t fully present either.

The middle is where Hux kisses Ren and Ren forgets to kiss back. The middle is where Hux talks to Ren at length, asks something of him – even just how he might be feeling and distractedly, Ren will ask, “hmm?”

The middle is where Hux is not glorified and all that matters in the universe, the middle is not where Hux is thin air or never existed at all. The middle is where Hux is an unimportant detail – a bit of something stuck in Ren’s teeth. 

Hux will reach for him and Ren might pull away, looking bothered or worse, he notices but doesn’t acknowledge Hux’s touch at all. Hux will offer to make something for Ren, order something for Ren – send fucking pilots out to the edges of the Outer Rim for whatever delicacy Ren might desire. And all Ren will do is furrow his brow as if Hux’s kindness is unnecessary and unexpected, decline, say he’s already eaten when Hux knows he hasn’t. 

In the middle, Ren lies. Ren ignores the pleading look in Hux’s eyes, brushes away Hux’s searching hands and proclaims over and over that nothing is wrong. He snaps at Hux without provocation, he mumbles unkind things when Hux has the ‘audacity,’ to demand Ren’s attention, Ren’s respect or consideration. Ren will leave without going through the proper protocol for taking a travel pod and he may leave for cycles at a time, keep his comm channel open and still not reply when Hux reaches out to him.

Hux won’t even ask for him to come back to the ship during those times, he won’t even scold Ren for being irresponsible and making his work harder or his database more convoluted than it already is. He just asks if Ren is okay, if he’s safe – to “please reply. Over.”

Ren never does.

In the middle, Hux is inconvenient, Hux exists only in Ren’s periphery and none of his concerns are taken seriously, none of his worries are well-founded enough to be entertained. Ren is short with him, Ren walks out of rooms instead of engaging in what Hux considers important. In the middle, Ren loses interest in Hux and Hux has to fight the knee-jerk reaction to either scream at Ren to just get lost if he can’t commit or doesn’t want him anymore or to cling to Ren and beseech him, implore for him to stay. 

The middle is the worst of it because it’s only in the middle that Hux can’t tell where he stands, what it is he’ll say that cycle or _not_ say that cycle that will set Ren off. It’s in the middle that Hux worries hour by hour if and/or when Ren will walk out and never come back, intimidate him through use of the Force and not regret it or say something hateful to Hux that Hux won’t be able to forgive or forget. 

Being with Ren means spending two thirds of his life in the dark, barely qualifying for insignificant, a passing thought or entirely nonexistent. 

One third of the time, Ren is Gone and Hux would unwind the galaxy by its tail to follow him into that emptiness. Another third of the time, Ren is half-there, never shutting the door, but breaking Hux’s fingers in the jam when Hux reaches out a tentative hand.

So, Hux lives for that one third of his life. 

Those brilliant, blinding cycles where Ren follows him around the bridge, talking to him telepathically, touching him however he can when eyes are not upon them. That one third of the time that Ren has tunnel vision and all that he can see clearly is Hux and Hux is everything he wants and everything he _needs_ and in wanting and needing Hux, gives Hux purpose. That one third of the time when Ren is undoubtedly, unequivocally and entirely for Hux – that one third of the time that Hux is sure Ren loves him back.

He’s sure of it.

Millicent, as all cats, spends two thirds of her life asleep and, essentially, so does Hux. 

He knows it’s not good for him, he knows it’s unhealthy and Phasma is constantly telling him that he deserves something and someone consistent, someone he can trust _all_ the time to be there for him, to give as much as they get, to be there for him and not disappear into themselves or drive him mad with doubt. He can’t explain why he stays, why he endures when letting Ren go might be the wisest, most sensible liberation he could give himself.

He hates when Ren is Gone because he feels he’s failing Ren, that if he could just figure out the secret combination into Ren’s head, he could be let in and fix whatever wiring is wrong. 

When Ren is fully present, he’s drunk on it, can’t see straight (usually can’t walk entirely straight either), can do nothing but surrender to Ren’s promising eyes and strong arms and sinful hands and sweet tongue. When Ren is present, Hux can let go, free fall until he finds himself, warm in bed with his head on Ren’s rounded shoulder and Ren’s fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him there, _wanting_ him there.

Those times, he’s at least certain of one thing or another. When Ren is Gone, it is with all certainty that Hux knows to be patient and just care after Ren, however Ren needs him to and that Ren will come back when he’s ready. 

When Ren is There, Hux is absolutely certain Ren loves him and trusts him and plans to stay.

In the middle, Ren is elusive and despite Hux’s similarities to cats in his lifestyle, he can’t sleep through the agony of it. He is wide-awake, on alert, anxious and unsure. 

He can’t know with any certainty if all that is required of him is patience or if he ought to stand up for himself and let his needs be known. He’s often too worried Ren will dismiss his needs outright and leave, so he stays silent instead. 

He can’t know with any certainty if Ren loves him enduringly or if it has an expiration date, if that date has been met, if Ren is slipping through his fingers and about to vanish like smoke, if Ren is falling away and out of love with him. The doubt is so insidious, it turns Hux’s mind into a warzone. 

In the middle, Hux is unsure of whether or not professing his love will drive Ren away or draw him near, unsure of whether or not arguing with Ren is the right path to take, nevermind his dignity or pride. He chooses silence because in the middle, there are no right moves to make.

He stands in limbo now, with that familiar wrong-footed tension in the air, sitting on the edge of his bed with rumpled hair and cool sheets where Ren was supposed to be. He fell asleep holding Ren’s arm, he’s sure of it – he was sleeping well, for in good company, he has good dreams. He blinks into wakefulness as much as he can, looking for Ren and finding him out of bed, staring out of the viewport, lost in his thoughts.

Hux doesn’t know what third they’re in. Perhaps, if Ren is There, Hux will ask him what woke him up, if he’d like some warm tea to calm him from some nightmare Ren never discloses the details of. And if Ren is There, he’ll turn to Hux, his eyes will glisten and crinkle at the edges in that endearing way they do when he’s smiling – then he’ll come back to bed, take Hux in his arms and kiss him sleepily.

If Ren is Gone, Hux can call out to him, but Ren won’t hear him. Ren won’t reply. Ren will stand there for however many cycles he must be Gone for and Hux will navigate Ren’s body to lie down, he’ll nurse Ren water and broth to keep him well in the cycles to come and he’ll wait. He’ll wait for Ren to come back, so he can stop missing the man so much while he’s standing right before him.

And Hux does miss him. Not in the traditional sense – Ren is there, physically, but his heart is far away and misplaced and Hux can turn over every table, look under ever sheet of paper, check under the bed, but he won’t find where it’s gone to. He misses Ren all while staring at him just a few feet away.

Ren notices him staring – he turns his head just slightly, but doesn’t meet Hux’s gaze. He only turns enough to confirm that he knows Hux is watching, then he goes back to staring out of the viewport.

Hux’s heart sinks as the only certainty there is to be had becomes apparently clear.

He’s in the middle again.


End file.
